To Believe In A Child Is To

A Solitary Maple On A Woodside Flames In Single Scarlet, Recalls Nothing So Much As The Daughter Of A Noble House Dressed For A Fancy Ball, With The Whole Family Gathered Around To Admire Her Before She Goes.

We Must For Dear Life Make Our Own Counter-realities.

We Must Grant The Artist His Subject, His Idea, His Donn´e: Our Criticism Is Applied Only To What He Makes Of It.

She Had A Certain Way Of Looking At Life Which He Took As A Personal Offense.

I Know Of No Substitute Whatever For The Force And Beauty Of An Artistic Process.